Visions
by jerichosbabe
Summary: They say that dreams are windows to the subconscious. Chris Jericho’s dreams are a window to a future. Stephanie McMahon’s future, to be precise. AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is something that (once again) was rolling around in my head for a while. It is not a one-shot, so there will be more to this than what there is right now, I just haven't uploaded it yet. Let me know what you think!**

He had to find her. He had to find her and stop her. He needed direction, though. Chris Jericho grabbed the first person he saw.

"Did you see which way she went?" He nearly screamed into John Cena's face.

"What? Who?" Cena asked him.

"Stephanie! Which way did she go?" He shouted at them.

"I...think she already left." Cena answered slowly. Chris released them immediately and took off running for the parking garage. "Is everything okay?" Cena shouted after him, but he ignored it as he continued down the hallway. He just hoped that he wasn't too late.

Why had he been so stupid? Why had he been so slow to react? Maybe then she wouldn't have stormed off the way she had and he would be able to tell her calmly why he couldn't let her leave without her getting upset at what had happened. He kept seeing the look on her face as she stormed away from him, he wanted to chase after her, but he couldn't…he had a match and it was live television. Vinny Mac may love his daughter unconditionally, but he loved his viewers a _little_ more than her personal problems.

He yanked his phone out of his pocket and started dialing her number as he weaved his way in and out of several people. It went straight to voicemail. Her phone was off, damn her. She was still upset about earlier – that much he knew, but no matter how angry she was at him, he couldn't let her leave. He just couldn't. She wouldn't want to listen to him, he knew that, but she was going to have to. If she drove away…well…

He would just have to stop her.

He threw open the door to the parking garage and sped up. He knew where she had parked, since he rode with her to the arena. He stayed with her as much as he could these days, not only because he loved her but for reasons he refused to admit to himself.

He saw her start to pull out of the parking space and he sprinted the last little distance, stopping in front of the car and putting his hands on the hood. She nearly ran him over. She glared at him through the windshield.

"You can't leave." He told her, huffing. Her glare intensified, but she didn't budge.

"Stephanie." He warned her. "This is **not** about _us_." She scoffed at him and let up on the brake a little, rolling forward, closer to him. He didn't move.

"You can't leave." He repeated.

"Why not?" she asked him angrily. He couldn't really hear her through the glass, but he could read her lips.

"Because…because something bad will happen if you do." He said vaguely. She shook her head in frustration as she rolled the window down.

"If you think that you can keep me here to talk about your stupidity with _that_ lame excuse, then you are sadly mistaken." She told him. "I don't want to talk to you right now, Chris Jericho. I thought I made that perfectly clear."

"You did, but I'm trying to save your _life_, Stephanie." He pleaded. "Please don't go. Not yet. Just wait a few hours. Get a ride with your dad or Shane."

"Why? So you can get back to your floozy without worrying about your wife walking in?" She spat. Chris set his jaw and looked at her sternly.

"It's not what you think." He said.

"Get out of my way, Chris." She told him, letting her foot off the brake again, rolling closer towards him still. He still refused to move.

"You're going to have to run me over if you want to leave." He told her. "I'm not moving."

"After what you did, that's a tempting offer." She said to him.

"That's the only way you're getting out of here. I'm not moving, Stephanie." He said, his hands firmly planted on the hood of her car. She could tell by the look on his face that he was serious. He wasn't playing around and trying to get her to stay so that he could plead his case. He was staying in front of her because he really believed that he was saving her life by doing so. She had seen this look on his face before.

But that still didn't excuse what he had done. She wasn't sure _anything_ would. She felt that he had ripped her heart out of her chest and smashed it to a million pieces on the ground below them. She thought that he loved her…now she wasn't so sure. Maybe it had all been an act to him. Maybe he had been playing the part of her boyfriend all along and she had been too smitten with him to notice until now. In the end, her anger won out over his sincere expression – and those pleading blue eyes.

"Move, Chris." She commanded.

He stared at her for a moment longer, knowing that she _would_ eventually start forcing the car forward to get him to move. Because what he had 'done' was unforgivable in her mind. He wished that she would think things through, though. He wished that she would listen to him. But in the end, he knew that as much as he wanted to - he couldn't stop her.

"Promise me you'll be careful." He told her.

"Chris…" She warned him.

"Stephanie, please." He said. "Promise me you'll be careful and you'll at _least_ text me when you get to the hotel." She stared at him.

"Fine." She said, rolling her eyes at him. Begrudgingly, he took his hands away from the hood of the car. He stared at her for a moment longer and then slowly walked out of her way. She sped off without looking back at him. He watched her go, still in his ring gear, standing there alone, hoping that he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life.

He was throwing stuff in his bag to catch a ride to the hotel with Randy when his phone finally rang. He expected her to text him earlier than this, but he supposed she did it on purpose to further antagonize him. He flipped the phone open without looking at who was calling.

"Stephanie?" He asked.

"Uh, is this a Mr. Jericho?" a female voice on the other end of the phone asked.

"Yes." He answered timidly.

"My name is Samantha. I'm a nurse at St. Mark's Hospital." She said, and Chris felt his chest tighten. "You're listed as a contact number for a Stephanie McMahon-Jericho. We're calling to inform you that she was in a car accident this evening and she was brought here just a few moments ago."

Chris collapsed on the bench behind him.

The woman started to tell him more, but he couldn't hear her. He felt completely numb as he sat there, listening only to the sound of an annoying alarm clock buzzing in his ear from somewhere…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to those who either favorited this or reviewed! I really appreciate it! **

Chris Jericho slowly snaked his arm out from under the blankets that covered his head. His hand started patting around wildly, searching for the nightstand that contained the source of the offending sound. His fingers lightly grazed the edge of the table and he moved his hand from side to side like a blind man, trying to figure out where he'd set the alarm clock last night. It took him a few more seconds to finally locate it, but once his hand smacked into the offending piece of equipment, he slapped the top of it, causing it to cease its buzzing. He let his hand lay on top of it for a second before pulling the covers back enough to see what time it was.

He groaned when he realized that he planned to be up thirty minutes earlier. He slowly rolled his way into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes as he rested his elbows on his thighs. His long blond hair was no longer the tame, combed mane that it had been when he went to sleep – it was now laying in every direction possible. He ran a quick hand through it, trying to make it at least all fall in the same direction, but it simply went back to the way it was before.

He felt like he was hung over, with the nauseous feeling that was starting to settle its way into the pit of his stomach, but there was no way that he could be. After he left the arena last night, he came straight back to the hotel, showered and went to sleep. He hadn't touched anything that would make him feel this way.

"Except her." He mumbled to the empty room.

If Chris was going to be completely honest with himself, he hadn't quite felt right ever since his match last night. It felt stupid to say, but ever since that he almost felt…buzzed for lack of a better word.

_He had the Walls of Jericho locked in and Kurt was tapping out. But the referee wasn't able to see it since he was busy stopping the youngest McMahon from entering the ring and interfering in the match. Chris had the match won, and the freaking ref wasn't even paying attention to announce him as the victor._

_After a few more seconds of watching her try to make her way into the ring, he grew agitated and dropped Kurt's legs, walking over to the referee and grabbing him by the shoulder to remind him that there was a match going on that he was supposed to be calling. He remembered shouting something at the incompetent official, but he couldn't remember exactly what he said. Without warning, Kurt came up behind him and shoved him into the referee, knocking him into the corner and down to the mat._

_With the referee down, he saw Stephanie start creeping her way into the ring with that hideous outfit. He could see that she had something in her hands, but he couldn't make out what. He and Kurt both started to make their way back to their feet. With the referee down, he wasn't sure who posed the greater threat – Stephanie or Kurt. He opted to keep his eyes on Stephanie. Right as he made it to his feet he saw her rushing towards her with her damn title belt in her hands. He ducked at the last possible second and turned around in time to see her knock Kurt out with it._

_She stood there for a moment, perhaps in shock, over the fact that she had just knocked out the wrong person. She dropped the title belt and walked back over to Kurt, checking on him, while holding her hands out to her sides. Chris was already walking towards her though, almost like a predator to their prey. He slowed down when he came within a few feet of her. Her head whipped up to stare at him, and her mouth was still hanging open from her mistake. He suddenly found himself wondering about that mouth…those lips… He smiled at her, knowing exactly how to get her to leave the ring without having to force her out._

_He took a step towards her and she took one back. He continued to get closer and closer towards her, while she shook her head at him, trying to get him to back off. He reached out suddenly, his left hand cupping the side of her face. She raised her hand to slap him, but he blocked it with his other hand, and shoved it away, using both hands to pull her towards him roughly. Their lips smacked together fiercely and she started to struggle against him. He started to lower her towards the mat, just a little – and when her flailing hands came to rest upon his head, he dropped her on her back and she rolled out of the ring, staring at him in shock._

Kissing someone who was supposed to be your sworn enemy wasn't exactly the textbook way to handle things, but Chris Jericho rarely followed the norm. He only wanted to throw her off her game. He had lost the match after all of that, but for once he wasn't really upset about it. After he had kissed Stephanie, he felt…strange. Like he was standing outside before an electrical storm and the hair on the back of his neck was standing up. She left him feeling…more aware, for lack of a better way of describing it. Chris couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly, but there was definitely something about that kiss that was unlike any other he'd ever known.

He found himself remembering those lips and those few seconds that his had been pressed against them. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face for a moment, before he shook his head and wrinkled his brow.

"She probably gave you some kind of disease." He told himself, throwing the covers off the bed and swinging his legs off the side to let his feet touch the ground. He went about his morning like usual and it wasn't until he was brushing his teeth that he remembered the dream that he had been abruptly awakened from.

He stared at his own reflection in the mirror as pieces of it flowed back into his conscious mind. He had been…married to Stephanie and he was concerned for her. He snorted as he continued brushing his teeth. That was a new one. He'd done something to piss her off and he was trying to stop her from leaving. Something bad happened to her. He wrinkled his brow. As he spit the toothpaste into the sink and turned on the faucet he remembered something else. He remembered running into John Cena. He looked back up into the mirror with his brow wrinkled.

"Who the hell is John Cena?" He asked his reflection.

Jericho had been with the company for 10 months and he had never heard anyone use the name or even talk about the name John Cena, yet in the dream they had spoken like they knew each other well. Like Cena was one of the boys or something. He shrugged and shook his head, dismissing the dream.

"_Have you ever been driving along the side of the road…and you see a piece of road kill? And maybe you nudge it with the toe of your shoe. And you might even grab a big branch and start to poke at it… Well…last night, I __kissed__ the nasty road kill!"_

Chris sat in the trainer's office with a bag of ice between his thighs. Not only had she slapped him for his comment this time, she'd also kicked him in the crotch. He had to say that he preferred getting slapped to getting kicked in his crown jewel. He pulled the bag away for a moment and sat it next to him as the door opened. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You know, Jericho…" Stephanie McMahon said as she entered the room, wearing the same outfit that she had on earlier. "If you want to stay here in the World Wrestling Federation, you might want to think about how you treat the people who run it."

"Really?" Jericho asked her with mock innocence. He smirked at her. "Well, Steph, if **you** want to keep making money and selling my merchandise, you might want to think about not trying to emasculate one of your top performers."

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before putting your filthy hands on me." She said, stepping closer to glare at him. He stared into her blazing grey eyes – his cool blue ones reflecting something mischievous. He smirked.

"You know something, you're right!" He said to her. "I _will_ think twice. I was lucky I didn't catch some kind of deathly disease from you last night! My God, my beautiful face could have been scarred forever!" He stood up as her mouth fell open. He patted her on the cheek. "Thanks for being concerned, Princess." He said, and walked out, leaving her to stare after him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: I didn't realize it had been so long since I updated this! Sorry! After writing _Gone_, it's been a little bit of a challenge to write something that doesn't take place in just one day's time. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate it. Keep at it - I love reading what you have to say!**

_His lips were pressed firmly against hers. She squirmed against him at first, intending to shove him back and free herself of his grasp. Her lips parted to protest, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. _

_Slowly, she stopped resisting him._

_Instead, she wound her arms around his neck and shoulders, pulling him closer to her – suddenly wanting him as close as she could manage to get him. They stumbled backwards, her back hitting a wall, pushing their bodies even closer together. He pushed his hips into hers as his mouth finally strayed, giving them both the air they desperately needed._

"_Chris…" Stephanie breathed, her chest heaving as his mouth left a wet trail down her neck. Her fingertips massaged his scalp. He silenced her with another kiss as he started to slowly grind his hips against her…_

Chris jolted from his sleep as a sharp cackle of thunder erupted. He looked around, startled and confused as to why he'd been awakened when lightning illuminated the sky through his hotel room window and another sharp crack of thunder echoed it. He leaned back against the pillow, glancing over at the alarm clock before remembering his dream. He sighed irritably as he thought about it.

Three weeks. Three **damn** weeks he'd been having this dream. At first, it had merely been strange - something that he wanted to _forget_ more than remember. After all, dreaming about making out with the one woman in the world that you detested more than anything else wasn't something that most people did. The first time he had been able to dismiss it as the alcohol that he'd drank the night before. When it happened again, he wrote it off as a coincidence. After a week, he began to wonder if he needed therapy.

He'd lost track of how many times he'd had the dream, knowing only that it involved him making out, and quite possibly "doing the deed" - as he started referring to it, with none other than his sworn nemesis, Stephanie McMahon. The most disturbing part about it to Chris was the fact that while his conscious mind might have been less than thrilled at the prospect of making out with Stephanie McMahon, his body was convinced otherwise.

It changed every so often, the dream. Sometimes he would take her right there against the wall, sometimes she would push him away and slap him senseless. No matter what the ending of the dream was, it always started with him making out with her. Part of him wanted to argue that this was just his subconscious's way of dealing with their little feud – that it was just raging hormones left over from the night he'd kissed her at King of the Ring.

But another part of him, a part that he refused to acknowledge, thought that it might be something more than that.

"You have got to be kidding me." Chris said to Vince, who had just informed him that he would be competing in more than three matches that evening. Vince stared at him.

"Do you have a problem with the matches my daughter made, Chris?" Vince asked him snidely. Chris gritted his teeth.

"No." He answered. Vince gave him a look.

"Good. You'd better get ready then." He said, motioning for Chris to walk back in the direction of the dressing room. Chris turned on his heel and balled his hands into fists. He had just won this Intercontinental Championship last night and now he was going to have to defend it in at least four matches later that evening. And apparently, he had his _favorite_ McMahon to thank for it.

He sat in the locker room and brooded about the situation. He would have felt a little better about it if he'd have at least known who his opponents were going to be. He knew that he could beat anybody they picked for him to face, but he also knew that he was going to be tired and worn down after the first few matches, which would make him an easier target for his last two opponents.

He was trying to come up with a strategy for his matches when his mind started drifting back to that dream again. He'd had this problem ever since he started having it – he couldn't stay focused on anything for very long without her suddenly interrupting his thoughts. That, more so than the dream itself, was what was pissing him off about the situation the most. He used to be able to focus and concentrate on several things at once. He used to be good at multitasking and getting many things done in a limited amount of time, but lately…lately he just couldn't find the mental capacity to do it.

"Chris!" Jason Reso, better known as Christian, snapped at him, waving his hand in front of his face. Chris shook his head a little bit and looked up at him. Jay smirked.

"Your match is on in, like, ten minutes, man." Jay told him.

"Thanks." Chris told him. Jay stood in front of him for a second.

"Are you okay, dude?" He asked. "You seem a little…preoccupied." Chris looked up at him and smiled.

"Nah, just getting in the zone." Chris told him, standing up. "I didn't realize how close to time it was getting though." Jay nodded his understanding and Chris walked away from him. He was standing by the steps to go through the curtain when he saw her. Hunter had his arm looped protectively around her shoulder as they strolled through the hallway. Her crimped hair was pulled up in a high ponytail tonight. He let his eyes study her for a moment, taking in the black sleeveless top and pink mini-skirt that she was wearing before turning his attention to the black curtain in front of him once more. He heard his countdown start to hit and he chanced a glance at her once more.

She caught him looking this time, and with a smug look on her face, she pulled Hunter close to her and promptly began to make out with him. Chris narrowed his eyes at her as his pyro went off, and a warm feeling started to settle in his stomach, an emotion that he couldn't quite pinpoint. He didn't have the time to consider it, so he made his way through the curtain and down the ramp for his first match of the evening.

Two hours later, after most of the other superstars and some of the crew had left, he was sitting in the locker room, seething. Bad enough that he had to face four different competitors tonight – worse yet that he had to defend, and ultimately lose, the Intercontinental Championship in each match. And despite all of that, somehow the thing that had ruined his evening the most was seeing that smug look on Stephanie's face before she and her _husband_ commenced making out in the middle of the hallway for everyone to see.

He wasn't sure what else he had been expecting, though.

The more he thought about her, the angrier he got. He was angry with her for costing him the Intercontinental title, he was angry with her for making out with Hunter in the hallway, he was angry with her for being Vince McMahon's daughter, hell, he even got to the point where he was angry with her for having crimped hair because he thought that it looked stupid. He stood up as his anger reached its peak and started throwing his things in his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder and storming out of the locker room.

He was almost to the parking garage when he noticed her walking into one of the larger locker rooms. Before he was able to think about what he was doing, he followed her in.

"I told you, I'll be in the car in a second, Hunt-" She cut herself off when she saw the man who was standing in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed and she smiled at him. "Well, if it isn't Chris Jericho, the _former_ Intercontinental Champion."

"All right, cut the crap Stephanie." He said to her sharply, taking a step into the room. "What the hell was that tonight, huh?" He asked her. "What kind of shit is that? Making me defend my title four times in one night?" She continued to smile at him.

"I call it the spirit of competition. I felt like restoring some credibility to the championship." She said.

"And how does defending the title four times in the same night restore credibility to the championship?" He asked her.

"It doesn't." She admitted to him. "But you no longer holding it does." He scoffed at her.

"Really? And why's that?" He asked her.

"Because the Intercontinental Championship should only be held by honorable people." She said to him. "Not by an arrogant, sexist, foul-mouthed **pig** like yourself."

"Is that so?" He asked, taking a step towards her. She nodded.

"Yes, it is." She said, defiantly.

"Well, coming from a filthy, dirty, disgusting, skanky, brutal, bottom-feeding, trash bag _ho_, " He paused, staring at her flushed and angered face. "I'll take that as a compliment." She shook her head at him.

"You asshole." She muttered at him.

"Just calling it like I see it, Princess." He said to her, shrugging.

"You're going to wish that you had never walked through that door." She promised him.

"I'm already wishing that." He informed her.

"Well, next week, you're going to be thinking about it a lot more when you're on your back in the middle of that ring." She said to him. He smirked at her.

"Is that what this is about? You just like seeing me on my back?" He asked. "Are you more of a girl who likes it on top, Princess?" Her mouth fell open as the comment sprang from his lips. He watched as her face quickly turned from one of surprise to anger and he saw her hand pull back in slow motion – intending to slap him. He caught her hand by the wrist and stared into her piercing gray eyes. She was glaring at him – almost daring him to do something to her, promising to make his life miserable if he decided to act on an impulse. He could read it all in her eyes, and he didn't doubt it for a second. Which was why his next move surprised him even more that it did her.

Without thinking, he yanked her towards him and pressed his lips against hers.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you, thank you, _thank you _to everyone who reviewed or favorited this! It really means a lot to me. I apologize that this chapter isn't quite as long as the others, but the muse decided that this was all for now. Let me know what you think!**

His hands cupped her face as he pressed their lips together, his duffel bag falling to the floor in the process. It took his brain more than a few seconds to catch up to what was happening, but when it finally did, all hell broke loose. It seemed to Chris that there were warning sirens suddenly blaring inside his mind, along with the sound of his own voice, screaming at him – demanding to know what the hell had gotten into him. Meanwhile, Stephanie was squirming against him, pushing her palms against his chest to try and create some distance between them. The trick of the situation was that he wasn't even holding her that tightly, so if she _really_ wanted to break free from him, she could.

The fact that she wasn't entirely pushing him away registered idly in his mind as their lips were still locked. He was ready to break away for a good, deep breath, but on the same side of the coin he didn't want to break his contact with her because he was afraid of what was going to happen once he did. He knew that he was at least going to get slapped. That was a given. If she wasn't _extremely_ pissed about it, then maybe the worst he would have to endure would be a match against Viscera or something. If she **was** extremely pissed…well…he'd probably have to fight everyone in the entire locker room next week before being fired. Either way, it was too late to fix what he'd done. He was going to have to live with it. He waited until the last possible second and then finally broke the kiss.

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes locked with his as they both took deep breaths to steady themselves. Slowly, he dropped his hands from her cheeks. They both blinked a few times and she finally took a step back. He looked away in the direction of the floor. He reached down to pick up his dropped bag and it seemed to him like he was moving in slow motion. He slung it over his shoulder again and turned to look at her. She was turned partially away from him, staring into nothing it seemed.

Chris opened his mouth to say something, but found that there were no words that he could think of to say. Part of him wanted to plead with her not to fire him for what had just happened. He could just imagine her firing him and adding a sexual harassment suit on top of it. Looking at the expression on her face though, he didn't think that's the route that she would go. Her expression was one that he wasn't familiar with – not entirely.

The best he could tell was that he was no longer seeing the "Billion Dollar Princess" version of Stephanie McMahon at that second. No, this expression…this was the sweet and innocent expression that Stephanie had worn back before Hunter corrupted her. The expression remained for a moment, before she wiped all emotion from her face. She turned back to him briefly and then walked over to grab whatever it was that brought her in here in the first place.

"Are you…okay?" He asked her timidly. He wasn't sure why he cared, really. He was more or less making sure she wasn't going to pull a handgun out of her bag and shoot her the moment he turned around. She slung the bag over her shoulder and faced him. Before she had the chance to say anything, Hunter came walking through the door.

"Honey, did you remember to get my-" Hunter started, but trailed off when he saw the man standing across the room from his wife. "What the hell are you doing in here?" Hunter began to growl. Stephanie put a hand on his chest.

"Chris was just talking to me about how he was displeased with his matches tonight." She said, her previous demeanor returning in a flash. He was surprised at how quickly the change had occurred. "He thinks that he deserves a rematch."

"I never should have lost the title in the first place." Chris said, speaking up quickly. He wasn't sure why Stephanie wasn't mentioning the fact that he had just kissed her, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "This whole stipulation was bullshit, and I doubt that it came from her." He said, glaring at Hunter.

"Why? You don't believe that I'm capable of making matches without my husband's help?" Stephanie asked him, feigning hurt.

"That just isn't your style, sweetcheeks." He said to her with a smirk.

"And how exactly would you know what my…_style_ is?" She asked him. Something about that question made déjà vu pass over Chris. He ignored it and smiled.

"Oh, come on Stephanie, everyone has seen a hooker on a street corner before." He said. Her face flushed in anger. "If you were going to screw someone over, you'd want your name plastered all over it so everyone knew that it was your doing. This whole 'behind the scenes' stuff just doesn't have the same ring to it." Stephanie set her jaw and glared at him.

"All right, Jericho. You'll get your rematch next week…but don't think that it comes without a price." She warned him.

"Really? What's the going rate for someone like you these days, Princess?" He asked her, taking a step towards them. "Do you have different package deals for your _preferred_ customers?" He asked, looking at Hunter. Stephanie glared at him as Hunter finally snapped. He lunged towards Chris, who side-stepped the move easily, walking through the doorway as Stephanie put herself in between them.

"Save it for next week." She told Hunter, trying to hold him back.

"You're dead!" Hunter promised him, pointing a finger in his direction. Chris just smiled at him and gave a quick wink to Steph before finally walking away.

He was still thinking about the whole situation hours later, lying awake in his hotel bed. He was puzzled not only by the fact that he had kissed her with no rhyme or reason, but also by the fact that she had refrained from telling Hunter once he entered the room. He was thankful that she hadn't said anything, but it also made him suspicious. If there was one thing that he had learned about her, it was that Stephanie McMahon never did anything without a reason.

It just didn't make any sense to him. She hated him – he knew that. Why would she keep from saying something to her husband about him kissing her? Hunter would have willingly tried to pulverize Chris – all he needed was a reason. Hunter had come out the stronger man in their confrontations thus far, but that was usually thanks to Stephanie's interference in one form or another. Up until today, Chris thought that she always enjoyed seeing him get put in his place - that she dreamed about him getting hit in the head with a sledgehammer every night.

Chris shot up in his bed suddenly.

"The dream." He whispered to the empty room, realization flooding him. His mind replayed all of the dreams that he'd had in the past few weeks of making out with her before finally calling up the memory of what had just happened. One of the dreams had ended like that. _Just _like that. **That** was why their little spout at the end had seemed so familiar to him.

He had a feeling like that should have cleared everything up in his mind, but it only succeeded in confusing him further. He'd had a dream about making out with her for three weeks and then it just…happened. Without his knowledge or realization, really. He walked in there with the intention of giving her a piece of his mind, letting her know how crappy of a job he thought she was doing. He hadn't walked in there with the intention of kissing her.

Had he?

He sighed angrily and fell back against his pillow again. His thoughts started rushing at him at a million miles an hour, so he closed his eyes and started to think about something else. He started to think about that look on Stephanie's face – that chink in her armor. He started to think about who she had been before Hunter.

His last thought before sleep claimed him was, how in the second before he broke their kiss…

She had kissed him back.


End file.
